We had a conversation
like one we did not have for years.
I looked at us
driving on the highway
in the wrong direction
in our ****** blue car,
and I realised:
in this conversation we were
finally
not talking
but listening.

There's a fridge filled with food.
It's fresh, not a bit rotten.
She cooks for me, she takes the time.
So that I'm filled before I'm starving.
After dinner they all sit
and do their quiet things,
but in a cozy way.
I'm happy to be in between them
once in a while.
Sometimes they cuddle.
She cuddles me a lot,
she knows how much I crave it.
I have never heard her yell.
She walks with me when I leave,
so that she knows I'm safe.
She's the safest place I've ever been.

I like the monday evening, as I walk home from my
replacement mother.
I eat something and go to bed.
I don't feel great and I don't feel terrible.
I feel all right, and that seems to be
the best feeling lately.

I stare at your words. What do I tell you?
That I do not love you, and I do not believe you love me?
That you left me, hurt me, ****** me up?
That because of your absence, this house is filled with medication?
About the nights I spend screaming and shaking,
or the twelve year old me who cut her wrists?
Do I tell you about my sister? My half sisters?
One is depressed and bipolar.
One is depressed and psychotic.
One is depressed and addicted.
Do I man up and tell you,
you're nothing to me. I hate you.

*Thanks, dad.

I have this thing for fathers.
The smell of a safe lap and
the feeling of strong arms
with big hands. Dark hair
on them, just like the first man
who ever hurt me, by
leaving me alone.

I have this thing for boys,
for virgins. The look in their
eyes when they see my skin
uncovered. Just like the first
boy who broke my heart.

I have this thing for cheaters.
who confess and than choke
in self pity.

For birds, broken wings,
fallen from their nest,
who I can offer my
life. Untill they fly.

We are all just collections
of reactions
to our past.

If you would read my poems
and ask what they're about,
I would lie
and say
not you.